Free Bittersweet Revenge by Monroe Scott

would sign a lease for one year and pay cash for the entire year. She had nothing to buy; the place had everything she needed in every room.
     
    She signed the papers, wrote a check, waited for them to verify the check and everything else, and Charla Morrison was wished good luck in her new home. 
     
    They all said goodbye and she left with the promise she would stay in touch. She got a taxi and went to her new home. She was excited about living in Back Bay, an area she had visited as it was being constructed. She would be at 175 Newbury Street, above a small museum, with only three other units in the building. She would have preferred a larger building, but this turned out to be the best choice.
     
    The driver helped her get her luggage and she happily gave him a twenty dollar bill. He was shocked and almost gave her a hug. He had stacked things neatly against the wall and she could easily unpack one at a time.
     
    The apartment was lovely, well furnished, clearly with expensive things, but not overly done. The multitude of plants had been freshly watered. She looked in the fridge and it was full of all kinds of goodies with a note across the front – Welcome to Boston, Sullivan Realtors. There were cheeses and smoked fish and salads and wine and sliced meats. Didn’t they know she would be living alone? She made a mental note to send a thank you card through Jacqui Lawson.
     
    No, she would not do that. Jacqui Lawson did not know Charla Morrison.
     
    She spent the next four days doing the sights and sounds of Boston, as she had ten years or so earlier. It was fun. So much had changed since her last visit. There were new restaurants and clubs and a high energy she had not felt before. Younger people. Students from across the Charles River at Harvard. It was play time before settling down for school.
     
    Charla always thought of the reason she was there, but she restrained herself from stepping away from her plan. 
     
    Until Friday of that week. That’s when she would check things out.
     
    She had the address and finally took a cab to the building. Once inside the huge lobby, she found the glass case with those little while letters and numbers that someone took charge of – the names and addresses of tenants.
     
    There it was, the 12th floor, Richard Westerman, Attorney at Law. She got in the elevator and pressed 12, knowing the moment had arrived when she might run into Rick. Everyone else got off the elevator before 12, so she was all by herself.
     
    She walked to the left, following the arrow, bit her lips and took a deep breath before she opened the door.
     
    A dark haired young woman sat at what was presumed to be the reception desk. Charla acknowledged she was in the office of Richard Westerman, and politely asked the young woman if there were any job openings. The woman introduced herself as Anna Younger and Charla said hello and shook her hand. 
     
    The door opened behind Charla and she knew the moment of truth was upon her. Rick walked into office, actually frantically ran into the office, said he had to leave for New York within the hour. They looked at each other with no recognition whatsoever. Charla’s legs were shaking. She took a deep breath and stood by as his frenzy spilled over to his secretary. He fortunately decided to get out to Logan and find a flight rather than spend a long time on the phone now. He was right. That’s what she would have done.
     
    They were gracious to one another. Anna mentioned that Charla was looking for a job. Rick mentioned he had a couple of projects and she should leave her number, he’d be in touch when he got back. He asked Anna to get a message to his wife and he was out the door. They both took a deep breath. Anna commented that’s how life was with Rick.
     
    Charla was surprised at her lack of emotions being in the same small space with Rick after all this time. In fact, she felt nothing. She had expected some emotions to sweep over her, but that